


pillow talk

by inacolloquialsense



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: M/M, snuggling during sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inacolloquialsense/pseuds/inacolloquialsense
Summary: q's got the sickness. murr's on his way with the cure





	pillow talk

**Author's Note:**

> based on: All the secrets that you keep? Might get spoken while you sleep…

Death warmed over would be a compliment. Quinn feels like he’s been baking in the sun for a few days while an elephant stands on his chest. His throat is raw and torn, waking up every morning to glass poking past his tonsils. The only highlight of this ordeal is watching Murray try to handle the situation with any kind of decorum. The guy couldn’t handle mac and cheese, but now James scrambles back and forth from the corner store a block away to help him. Makes him feel all warm and fuzzy.

“I- I can’t see where it says how much to take.” Murr is holding the blue bottle, twisting its contents over and over again to scan ever millimeter of the label for directions.

His eyes are almost as baggy as Quinn’s. For the past few days he’s been worrying over his friend’s health, seeing him ride out the flu. He even took residence on the couch as of last night when Brian fell asleep on him while they were watching movies. 

Q has been wanting to knock himself out for the past couple hours. “Here let me see it.” 

Staring for another second he hands the container over. Brian rips the top off and takes a big swig. “Hey?! What are you doing? You can’t just drink it like it’s soda.” Murr grabbed the liquid and closed it.

“You can’t overdose on Nyquil.” He reclined back in bed, pulling the covers up.

“There’s no way for you to know that.” The bottle was placed on the end table. “Even if it doesn’t kill you it’ll probably do a number on your liver.” 

Quinn rolled over on his side to face away from Murray. “I keep a fifth of bourbon on the counter and regularly drink straight from the bottle. My liver is already fucked, but now I can get some rest.”

James didn’t know why he was being so difficult. Taking care of someone else was never a high priority of his, so it should have meant something that he would take time off to help him.

“Fine.” He watched Q have a cough attack, hacking up a lung or two, and his anger melted. “Do you want anything? I’m going to make you some tea.”

“Are you ACH sure you can h-ACH handle putting water in a kettle?” He breathed heavily, unable to hide how much speaking took out of him once he finished clearing his throat.

You have to respect a man willing to be sarcastic on his death bed.

It took Murr a while to realize Q didn’t have a kettle then more time to realize how it’s a bad idea to pour boiling water from a pan into a small mug. The microwave was the obvious choice he made after nearly scalding himself. He put the tea bag in then balanced the cup and some honey on a book.

“Hey, Bri-” Murray stopped himself, seeing Quinn sleeping peacefully. Not that anything short of a bolt of lighting could wake him from the deep drug-induced slumber. It was nice seeing him so still and peaceful. James let his tiredness take hold and crawled in bed. They faced each other. The last thing he remembers is meditating on the even inhales and exhales of breath.

Late in the afternoon Brian woke up first, groggy and confused at the sound of someone talking. Not quite sure if it was a dream or not. Murr was in bed with him, so at least it would be a good dream. 

For a while Quinn swam in and out of consciousness until he found out his friend kicked occasionally like a dog chasing something while it slept. He sighed deeply at being awoken, enjoying the extra warmth of someone else in bed. In the quiet of the room it was easy to focus on the soft mumbling coming from the man beside him.

“Just wanna help you.” “Don’t know how to make soup.” “You look so miserable.” ”Miss you.” “Care about you.” “Be healthy already.” “I’ll get more comics.” “Don’t know what to do.” “Miss you laughing.” “I want you to myself.” “Please be nicer.” “I want you to be better.” “I’m trying for you.” “I’m trying.”

These weren’t the kinds of things Q was prepared to hear in his weakened state. He pulled James into his chest. “You stupid fucker,” he said cursing the extra ache in his chest. “You can’t tell me this shit when you’re up?” Here Brian was aching and sore, half in the bag from Nyquil, feeling sorry for this sap who can’t string together a nice sentence unless he’s asleep. Murray stopped fidgeting in his sleep with someone holding him, and Quinn was able to drift off.

“I can’t move.” Unbeknownst to him, Murr had been trapped in a bear hug in his sleep. He woke up very hot and slightly squished. “Q. Wake up.” It started as a whisper combined with wiggling to free himself. “Hey, buddy. Hey.” At last there was some movement, and Brian opened his eyes a fraction.

“Morning.” His voice lifted up at the end, almost singing.

James struggled for a second more when he realized Q wasn’t letting up. “Brian, you’re spooning me against my will. I’m going catch whatever you have.”

“Stop worrying.” He held him tighter. “And if we were spooning we’d be facing the same direction. I don’t know what this is called, but I like it.” He let go. “Remind me to buy you dinner. We’ll go out on the town. Just the two of us.”

“Why are you in such a good mood?” They stared at each other. Murr seeming suspicious while Quinn was wearing a sleepy smile. 

He shrugged to his best ability while horizontal. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to thank you again for helping me.” His eyes were just getting bigger and gooeyer.

That caught James off guard. He’d like to think the sweet act worked only on other people, but confronted with that face head on, it was hard to shake. “Yeah. You’re welcome.” He rewound the past days, considering what could have made Q seem so lovesick but came up blank. Even in Murr’s dreams he was miserable. In his dream… “Did you wake up before me?”

“Uh-huh.” Quinn perked like his friend had finally gotten in on the joke.

“Oh god. What did I say?” Murr thought about how easily he could be embarrassed or blackmailed with the information floating around in his head. Not mentioning what stupidity comes out of his mouth when his brain’s not functioning enough to filter it.

“Everything, you dumb sap. I know deep down there are emotions stirring up your insides.” He couldn’t contain himself any longer, and he wrapped his arms around Murray.

James squirmed. “I’ve always had emotions, ya jerk.” He felt anxious and exposed, like someone just spilled the details of an imagined journal.

“Can’t you just let me enjoy this? It’s a very sweet and warm moment.” Q loosened his grip enough for breathing space between their faces. “This could’ve happened more naturally if you didn’t keep your feelings locked up like Fort Knox.”

“Oh, like you share all the time?” Murr raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“We’ll both work on it, but I’m still sickly.” Brian feigned a cough that turned real. Interrupting what he was saying. “Fucking shit. I really am.” He hit his chest then laid on his back. “Please take care of me?”

Murr sighed at him. “Only since it gets me out of this room. By tomorrow I’ll probably be bedridden, and we’ll both be lying here together.”

“Can’t wait.”


End file.
